


kibitzer

by hikaie



Series: dealer's choice [5]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Love Bites, Making Out, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: “We wouldn’t want people thinking you’re paying too much attention to me in the ring.”“Who will know but you, Witt?” And doesn’t that just make Elliott squirm, all his blood rushing south. “Is that not what you are always wanting? My undivided attention?” They nip at his bottom lip when he tries to respond. “My sweet, even when we are on enemy teams, you must know I am watching you.”---kibitzer: general card game terminology; an onlooker at a card game
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Series: dealer's choice [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1418995
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	kibitzer

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally all porn! We'll get back to your regularly scheduled plot and associated fluff uhh... soon-_ish._ Anyway, as always, enjoy!

Normally Elliott hits the locker room showers as soon as they touch down, or as soon as he’s allowed free of the cruel embrace of medical. Today he’s endured the long trek back to his apartment for the sweet promise of privacy. He’s already undone the many clasps on his equipment in the elevator, and carefully slides them off his arms. Over-encumbered as he is, he’s completely defenseless when he shoulders into the apartment.

“_Ho_-ly shit, _Hound_.” The doorknob digs painfully into his back, and he flings out his arm to keep from dropping his holotech rig. Bloth has him pinned, a hand sliding from his shoulder into his hair to tug him down into a bruising kiss. They quickly divest him of his goggles, dragging the strap up and tossing them away. He hears them hit the carpet somewhere in the living area and hisses, “Careful-” to which Bloth responds with a bite to his lip.

He’s sweating something terrible under his suit, already keyed up from the match and falling apart easily under Bloth’s demanding mouth and hands. Their hand slides into his, the one held away from their bodies, fingers interlocking and then whisking his equipment away. At no point do they stop kissing him, nipping him anytime he tries to speak. Normally he digs the biting, but he has a split lip and soon he’s tasting the tang of blood on the tip of his tongue. They seem unperturbed, if anything they become messier with their kisses. Elliott moans and grabs for them, which seems to be what they were waiting for, because they sigh into his mouth.

“Hello,” Bloth says, and it’s a little thick, a little slurred. Now that he’s free of their full attention he notices their black eye. He wonders if it happened when Octane elbowed them, sending them reeling with a strength Elliott hadn’t been aware he possessed. Elliott raises a hand to cup their face, thumb sweeping under the curve of their eye. They wince, but don’t pull away. He leans his forehead against theirs and smiles.

“Long day?” He asks, and his voice sounds _wrecked_.

Nodding jostles Elliott’s head, and he leans away, tilting his head and leaning back in to kiss the smear of blood off their mouth. Bloth makes a noise, a sweet, soft exhale. “You won.” They say to him, right up against his lips.

“By the skin of my teeth.” He concedes. His entire body is dirty and tender; the leavings of a long tumble down a steep hill. Luckily he’d gotten away with only that, but not for lack of Wattson trying.

He’s a little surprised Bloth got home before him- Bangalore hadn’t been very forgiving in taking them down. It’s always hard, when they’re on opposing teams, even harder when they go head-to-head. But being in the top two? It hadn’t happened in a while. Neither of them were sore losers about it, but this reaction is… _new_. Unexpected, but welcome. Elliott had come straight home for the possibility of a quick orgasm and a long shower, blood singing with the victory. Maybe he can have his cake and eat it, too.

“Let’s get cleaned up?” He suggests, noticing they’re still mostly in their gear. Their hair is smoothed back, a few stray strands curling at their temples. Elliott wants to touch them, fully, with no armor or carefully layered clothing in the way.

“Mmh.” Bloth doesn’t ease their weight off of him. “I wanted to have you, here.”

A blush fills his cheeks suddenly, a sharp sting like they’ve slapped him. “E-eager, huh? It’s just… I’m… y’know…” He shivers as they lean into his space, nosing along his jaw. It sends waves of sensation along his scalp, down his neck, fizzling out somewhere in his abdomen. The jumpsuit alone would be uncomfortable- let alone the fact he’s wearing a _cup_. “Bloth.” He whimpers when they set their teeth to his throat.

He lets them work up a lovely bruise, one hand fisted loosely at their back, holding them close as much as he’s holding on for dear life. Surely his heart can’t take this much abuse, the Games and Bloth having their way with him all in one day. They bite him once, twice, sweep their tongue along the overlapping marks and kiss him with purpose. Elliott groans into their mouth, then jerks in surprise when they start undoing the velcro straps of his vest one-handed.

“Whoa, whoa- seriously?” It’s not that Elliott is particularly against being jumped against the door like this, but he’s absolutely filthy. He’s pretty sure volcanic ash is in places it was _never_ meant to be.

Bloth leans away, eyebrows raised. A (now curiously holotech-free) hand sneaks up to pluck the tucked-in end of his scarf free, yanking it from his neck when it loosens. He swallows as their other hand slides under the slackened vest, finding the high edge of the zipper in the back and pulling it down. “Did you know,” They say, and he feels the abrupt sensation of the zipper give way through the slider. “-that you smile when you make a kill?”

He bites his bottom lip to stifle a grin. “Is that so? Keepin’ a close eye on me, huh?”

A soft growl is their immediate response to the question. Bloth reaches a roadblock at his belt, but instead of letting it deter them, they dip their hand inside the opening in the suit and slide their fingers up along his spine. “Oh, yes. I have to. You are so tricky.” They pinch him and he hisses. “Not the one for the cameras. When you think they are not looking, you are still smiling.”

“I’m always smiling.” He throws one their way just for the hell of it, and tugs fruitlessly on their tunic. They click their tongue and trail one gloved finger from the top of his spine, down, down to the small of his back. His mouth falters open, and his eyes wince shut as he shivers. He feels their other hand on his pelvis, a promising weight, but it’s just them carefully undoing the clasps of his harness one-handed.

“No, elskan.” Bloth says, and _they’re_ smiling, crooked, with their teeth flashing momentarily. Predatory. Elliott swallows, shifts his legs to accommodate for the growing discomfort between his thighs. “Not like this.”

“N-now, now.” He inhales sharply when that wandering hand travels in the opposite direction. His mind wanders to the integrity of the seams of his suit, what with the zipper stretching around the bulk of Bloth’s still-armored forearm. “We wouldn’t want people thinking you’re paying too much attention to me in the ring.”

“Who will know but you, Witt?” And doesn’t _that_ just make Elliott squirm, all his blood rushing south. “Is that not what you are always wanting? My undivided attention?” They nip at his bottom lip when he tries to respond. “My sweet, even when we are on enemy teams, you must know I am watching you.”

“That _should_ be wildly creepy, but I really need you to take me to the bedroom, five minutes ago.” He breathes out, chasing the smile on their lips when they pull away.

“Mmh.” Their finger slips under the band of his underwear, tugging it until it snaps against his skin. He yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. “Your clothing is so inconvenient.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” He tongues at the raw spot on his lip, coming away with the coppery tang of blood. “Why don’t we,” And now he pushes off the door, seemingly catching them off guard. Their hands clutch at him, and he curls his arms around their back as he takes short steps toward the hallway. “-go take a shower? I-I-I can guarantee my clothes will be off for that.”

Bloth sighs. “If we must. You are so… _finicky_, about these things.”

Elliott raises an eyebrow. “That’s a new word, where’d you pick that up?” They’re in the hallway now, and he lets go of them to open the bedroom door.

“Ajay.” His partner says brightly. “She was telling me about how D.O.C. prefers her to do it’s maintenance, and I did not understand what she meant.”

This sentence makes his mouth tick up and his stomach do something funny. Although the door is open, he draws them in for a kiss, a slow sweet one with his hand at the small of their back. They sigh into his mouth, then surprisingly take a step back from him.

“If you do that again, I cannot promise we will make it to our destination.” They reach up and start pulling their tunic over their head. Once free of it, they toss it to the floor and reach for their undershirt. “This is not a show, Elliott. I thought you were going to undress?”

He scrambles to attention, following them as they back-step toward the bathroom, coy smile on their face. The two of them leave a trail of clothing from the hallway through the bedroom, until he’s crowding them against the shower door and pressing against them, skin to skin. Well, mostly. They laugh into his mouth, trailing a foot up his socked calf. “Forgot something.”

“Taking socks off is dec-side-decisi- _really_ not sexy.” He attempts. They reach into the shower for the knob and he takes the opportunity to lean down and wiggle out of the offending garments. One of their hands comes to rest on his shoulder, and Elliott looks up as they slide it up into his hair.

“Look at you…” They murmur, and he realizes how very close to their pelvis he is and swallows.

“Shower’s right there, Hound.”

“Ah, but I told you not to stop me, did I not?” Sharp pleasure shoots from his scalp directly to his groin when they tug on his hair. “And you look so good on your knees, elskan.”

He sinks onto them before he’s fully conscious of it. Their hand directs his face toward their skin, and he presses his mouth beneath their navel. “Water’ll get cold.” He mumbles, not breaking eye contact, not doing anything to stop them from pushing his head down.

“I suppose you will have to work quickly.”

It’s somewhat embarrassing, how hard he is already. He parts his thighs a little, dips a hand between them as he mouths down Bloth’s lower abdomen. They pet his head absently, smoothing his hair back away from his eyes. With his free hand he reaches up, settles it across the fullness of their thigh. He can feel the softness of the hair here, and the flex of their muscles as he nudges them to spread for him, give him a little room to work with. A growl is his reward for pressing fleeting, open-mouth kisses down the junction of their thigh. He lets them steer him closer to their sex, and the wetness there that he presses his tongue to.

Elliott could live on their sighs, on the little noises they choose to grace him with. He doesn’t think them shy- he wouldn’t be on his knees sucking them off if that was the case. They’re just _quiet_, and he learns to listen if only for what they choose to give him. He edges away for a breath, letting his exhale kiss their skin, which has them tugging him back in with a snarl. Needy, he _loves_ them needy, loves them touching him and pulling him and putting him where he’s supposed to be. He also loves fighting those directions. Sliding his palm up their thigh, he digs his thumb in a little on the inside, drawing out a whimper. Turning away from them, he mouths at the soft skin before biting their leg. Bloth twitches and jerks his head up.

With his eyes watering, he lets them yank him to his feet. “You are such a brat.” they tell him, holding him in place to deliver a gentle kiss on his mouth. He sighs out when they don’t deepen it, tries to follow their face when it pulls away only to have his hair held tight. Elliott strains against their hold more, until they’re stepping back into the shower and steering him in after them.

The instant the hot water hits his skin, it both brings the aches in his body to the forefront, and also soothes them away. Bloth reaches around him to slide the door shut, pressing against him in a slick slide that entices him to wrap his arms around their waist. Their head bumps into his affectionately, and this time they let him deepen the kiss they initiate, their hands falling loosely at the nape of his neck.

“Mmh… I am not sure we will get clean this way,” they tease. Bloth arches their neck to the side willingly when his lips move there, and he feels the pinprick of their nails against the top of his spine. He’s so hard it _aches_, so he slides a hand beyond their waist, groping their ass and holding them in place so he can rut against their hip.

“Tsk,” They hold him in place by his hair, and he grins at them. They could break his grip if they wanted, but they allow him to continue holding them, allow the filthy grind of their hips together. The heated look they’re giving him makes him pant, grin faltering, until he can’t take it and casts his eyes away.

“Eyes on me.” They command him, shaking him a little by his hair. He complies, blinking back the static of pain needling across his scalp. He swallows, dares to curve his fingers under their ass and nudge on their thigh. Bloth smiles, that same small one where their top lip pulls back and shows the sharpness of their teeth. Obliging him, their thigh raises up, and their hips slot together with a groan from them both.

He really hopes he doesn’t bust his ass. Moreover, he really hopes he doesn’t make them bust their ass. Elliott plants his other hand on the wall behind them, pushes them against the tile. The spray is hitting his back now, and Bloth’s hand and his hair where they hold him at a distance. He wants to kiss, to taste their mouth, but he’ll settle for grinding between their thighs and watching their eyes shutter. Their eyelids are slitted, letting him know they’re still watching. His flush has nothing to do with the hot water.

“Maybe you’re right.” He says. “Maybe we… we’re not… _fuck_.” He loses his train of thought, thrusts a little harder. They make a delicious noise.

“Shh.” A pointer finger presses to his lips. “Do that again.”

“_Bloth_.”

The finger slips into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Elliott gets with the program and thrusts again, and Bloth’s head falls back against the wall with a moan. Giving them pleasure makes him giddy, and he thrusts a few more times. He can feel how aroused they are, and he wants more than anything to make them come. He bites their fingertip, their hand yanking away from his mouth. Bloth looks at him with wide, surprised eyes, and he leans in to kiss them. For a moment he has the upper hand, swallowing the noises they make, pushing closer, _closer_. Then they pull back to breathe, raking their nails down his scalp in the interim. He sees _stars_, drops his forehead to their shoulder and swears. They pat his jaw and, panting, say, “Back on your knees.”

He obeys, and they arch to redirect the showerhead so the water isn’t hitting him dead-on. Elliott’s surprised they haven’t already run down the hot water, but then Bloth is slicking his hair back from his face and pushing him forward and he forgets all about it. The first taste of them has him humming, so that they grunt and tighten their grip in his hair. He presses the flat of his tongue against them just to get a better taste, more of them in his mouth. Looking up at them has its perks, the entirety of their wet, muscled abdomen on display for him. He curls his fingers around the backs of their thighs.

“Ah-” They gasp and reach out to steady themself against the shower door when he jerks them forward. He drags their knee up, until they’re propping their foot on the rim of tub. Elliott pulls back to nose at their skin, to lick at the junction of their inner thigh, to press his face into their warmth and nibble. Though he tries to bring up a hand to touch them, they refuse, directing him with a gentle nudge to get back to business. He chuckles and tongues at them. The frustrated growl they let out makes his neglected cock twitch, and he palms himself greedily.

“None of that.” They chide. Their nails dig into his head for good measure, and he returns his hands to their thighs. Feeling their strength, the weight of them sagging into his hold as he busies himself between their legs, makes him feel utterly small and weak, in the best of ways. He can’t look away as they watch him work, their chest starting to rise and fall rapidly, their lips parted. The flavor of them, the tang of skin and cum combined, is heady. He presses forward, sucks gently until it rips a ragged noise from their throat. Unable to help himself, he grins, the motion splitting his lip all over again. One hand slides free from his hair and reaches down to touch his jaw, cupping there as he eagerly laps at them.

When he slips his thumb between their legs and presses against their perineum, they grunt in surprise, and he glances up to watch their eyebrows tick up in the center. He can feel the muscles in their thigh fluttering against his other hand, and, knowing they’re close, he slips his tongue out of his mouth and licks the entirety of them, sloppy and obscene. It does the trick, an aborted moan meeting his ears. Their hips jerk, and so does their hand in his hair, bringing tears to his eyes. He repeats the motion, again, again, until they’re shaking and making noise on every exhale.

“Don’t stop,” they say, their voice desperate, nearly begging. He moves his thumb in small circles against them, steadies their leg with his hand against their knee.

“Wasn’t gonna.” He murmurs, and, feeling them trembling more than ever, sucks hard against them until they shout.

“Oh! _Ohh_…” With their hand tight in his hair, he has no choice but to accept the brunt of their cum in his mouth as they hold him there between their quivering thighs. By the time they loosen their hold on him, he’s breathless and coughing a bit. Their hands both cup his jaw, now, thumbs brushing against his slick lips, one pushing inside to rub at his tongue. He chokes, then moans, and he can no longer resist the burn of his own arousal, hand dropping to stroke himself. He gets a few good ones in, desperate, fast tugs that have him almost there- he’s high on the taste of them, their thumb still pressing down on his willing tongue, but then they’re pulling their hand out of his mouth. He gasps, and then flails as they tug him up by his hair, into a scorching, biting kiss.

“Babe-” He manages in a brief break for air, but they don’t give him long before they’re kissing him again. Their tongue dips into his mouth and he whimpers, pulls them close and thrusts against their hip frantically. When they finally draw back he’s almost dizzy with pleasure, wavering slightly as they press against him and mouth at his throat. With one hand lazily palming his ass to keep him occupied, they reach around and turn off the water, which had indeed gone cold.

Getting out is a more complicated process, given the fact that their pliant, wet body is still so close to his own. He’s grabby, unabashedly so, but they’re playing coy, moving away and teasing him with kisses that don’t last long enough. The rush of cold air against his skin when they slide the door open does little to ratchet down his excitement. “I have not forgotten about you,” Bloth laughs against his mouth, which Elliott has been pressing in turns to their lips and jaw as they try to maneuver him out of the tub. “Out of the shower, now, my love. Then I will see to you.”

He nearly trips over the rim of the tub, but they lay a hand on his shoulder to balance him. That same hand they move to his waist, the other joining it on his opposite hip, and they pull him over to the vanity. “Stay here.” They tell him, then slip around him to open the bathroom door, releasing some of the accumulated steam. He’s not sure how he manages to obey, but his desperation starts to wane while they’re parted. They’re not gone long, though, and he sighs when they press against him from behind, their hands falling to his hips again.

“Since you were so eager to touch yourself,” they squeeze his hips lightly, then trail their hands up his sides. “-go ahead. I want to watch.” The request is casual, their chin on his shoulder and their voice in his ear. He swallows thickly and chuckles.

“Mirror’s still a little fogged, you won’t really see much.”

Tingles cascades down his neck when their lips brush his ear. “I can see plenty.”

Planting his feet a bit wide, he takes himself in hand and starts off slow. If they want a show, he can give them one. Though he can’t help the whimper that slips out, and he finds himself pausing a moment to thumb the head. He’s growing antsy, needy for it. Slow doesn’t last, not with the feeling of their skin against his. Not with the taste of them still in his mouth. And as the steam clears from the mirrored surface and he catches their eyes, the urge to come wells up in him, irresistible. He throws his hand out, gripping the nearby counter and groans, open mouthed.

Bloth sneaks their hand around, and he thinks they’re going to take over, finish him off. He’s breathless for it, hips canting with the stroke of his own hand. So breathless that when they squeeze him snug around the base that he can hardly do more than choke, fingers curling against the countertop.

“Oh- oh, _oh oh_, Hound don’t-” He watches in the mirror, the dismay clear on his face, the delight clearer on theirs. Elliott shakes and whines, releases his own grip and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Elskan.” They remind him, and he opens them again. He’s shivery and weak. They’re still damming his orgasm, so he does his best to push it down. The faster he recovers, the faster they’ll go back to touching him.

“Keep going.” They say while he’s still fighting it off. He whines in discontent.

“Too close.” He knows this game, knows that if they stopped him once they’re not going to hold off on _two_. No, they’ll wring him out, have him on the knifepoint of overstimulation before they allow him to come.

“Hmm.” Bloth releases their grip on the base of his cock and finds his hand, hanging limply at his side. They slot their fingers between his, and he allows them to direct it back to his dick. Their pointer finger slips over his, directing it to bend, and he exhales through his nose when both of their hands curl around him. The mirror is defogging, now, and when he looks he can see the picture they make in the uncovered portions- hands between his legs, their inky black hair behind his tan shoulder, their other hand sneaking around to palm his chest. Goosebumps break out across his arms and the tops of his thighs. “Now, keep going.”

They do not wait for him to listen, instead stroking him from root to tip. He gets with the program, and in no time at all is thrusting into their entwined hands. Condensation leeches away from the mirror in blobs, until finally he’s looking them in the eye. Normally light grey irises are swallowed by the black of their pupil, hidden by their hooded gaze. His mouth drops open on a needy inhalation; he starts to chase the rising feeling in his stomach, again. He doesn’t miss their smile as they stroke down and squeeze.

“Mother_fucker_.” He gasps out. He makes the mistake of breaking eye contact, to look down at the mess they’re making of him, but their left hand jerks away from where they’ve been drawing lazy circles around his nipple and yanks his chin up.

“Ah-ah.” Their chin nestles against his shoulder, their long, damp hair sticking to his back. After punctuating the reprimand with a gentle squeeze of their hand, they seem to decide it’s enough punishment and drop their hand back to his chest. He swallows thickly as they flick at his nipple, pinpricks of pleasure racing straight to his groin. Pointlessly, he thrusts, and feels heat fill his face as their eyes leave his to watch him squirm in the mirror.

Bloth gives him no warning before they start stroking him, so quick that it makes him yelp out a noise and lock his knees. For a moment his eyes drop away from theirs, down, not to the reflection of their hands but to the real thing. Watches the flash of their skin tone against his, between his fingers, pulling over him. And there: the slick glare of precum across their knuckles. Elliott chokes out a desperate breath, and seeing their hand coming, doesn’t let Bloth reach his chin this time before returning their gaze. Instead he gets to watch in his periphery as their hand falls to his chest and tweaks his other nipple.

“That’s it,” They say, and, “Good boy.”

Elliott cants his hips and is rewarded with a squeeze at the base of his cock. “Fuck, no fair.”

“This is my game.” Tutting, they slow their hand as they stroke him up to the tip. He can feel the slick slide of it, between their interlocked fingers. “Who said I would be fair?”

“I thought orgasms would be involved.” He whines.

“Do you think me so cruel?” His muscles are sluggish, his knees weak. He grips at the countertop feebly, and then they twist their wrist. Elliott cries out, managing to shut only one eye in his pleasure, not willing to disobey them again. Over his shoulder they are smiling, and their eyes are predatory where they meet his own. “Have I ever… mm… what is the phrase?” They stroke him slowly as they ponder, loose passes of their palm that have him wincing back heat at the back of his eyes. Bloth has turned into a smudge in his vision by the time they say, “Ah. Left you hanging?”

“Wh-what was the question?” He chokes, and curls his toes against the tile.

“Have I ever,” And they squeeze, almost punishingly, such that he has no choice but to close his eyes. The noise he makes when they let go of him is so full of despair, he can hardly believe he made it. “-left you _hanging_, dearest?”

Not until he’s already done it, the sound reverberating between them, the pain vibrating up his wrist, does he realize he’s slammed his fist on the counter. “Right about now you _seem to be_.”

“You just have to listen to me.” They click their tongue, and then they slide both hands up his torso. He opens his eyes but has to blink rapidly to will away the heat, the overstimulation threatening to bubble over. Against his back he feels the heat of their body, the soft tone of their muscles. Maybe… maybe he can try getting them off again, maybe they’ll let him…

“Oh-” As soon as he attempts to turn in their hold they pin him, arms squeezing around him, hips pressing forward until he’s trapped against the counter. He swears, then groans. Pushing his hips back earns him a huff of a noise, and their fingers sweep up to pinch him. “There you go again, forcing my hand.”

“Maybe if I could force it south?” He grins cheekily at them in the mirror, and they twist his nipple, drawing an expletive from him. Bloth thumbs the abused skin, the pleasure numbed now. Still, he chases the feeling. Anything’s better than this endless teasing, than the lack of any friction on his cock.

Their weight eases off of him, leaving him equal parts relieved and disappointed. He starts to back up but they stop him, and they twine around him again. “Look at yourself.” They murmur. Elliott does: his hair is still wet, but curling at the edges, and he’s flushed from his ears down to his chest. Bruises are blossoming on his neck from their teeth and mouth, and his nipples are still hard from their hands. Then there’s his dick, standing at attention and weeping pre visibly. He swallows, audibly, and Bloth hums. He feels it against his back. “Now can you see why I want to draw it out?” Their voice is but a whisper, and their hand sneaks around and wraps around him once more.

“Fuck, _Hound_.” All the air in his lungs seems to vacate him. He feels lightheaded with pleasure, and though they’re going slow, his orgasm sneaks up just as quickly. Somehow he manages to hold it off, though he doesn’t know why. Their eyes are raking over him in the mirror, settling on their hand working him over slow but sure.

“You were beautiful today.” They breathe. “And you are beautiful now, like this. Though I cannot decide which I like more.” They twists their wrist, and Elliott whines, high and desperate. He can’t stop his hips jumping, now, and scrabbles at the counter for purchase. Their other hand comes around his waist and holds him steady.

“Bloth- _Hound-_” He pushes into the tight ring of their fist, once, twice, loses himself. “Please, please, can I- please let me- please, _please-_” Usually he’s good at this, feels he’s been excellent up until now, so desperate he can’t think in more than one syllable. “I want-”

“Go on.” His moan is pure relief, the edge of his orgasm already cresting over him at the two words. “Let me see you.” They purr.

Elliott can’t keep both eyes open, he can’t, the heat behind them nearly supernova. He _watches_ himself come, face screwed up, body going rigid as it’s ripped out of him. It’s distinctly filthy, and so is the noise he makes, a punched out, low moan. All the while they continue stroking him, until he starts to go jelly-legged and shivery. The roughness of their palm caresses over his dick a few more times, the aftershocks fizzling out in his thighs and stomach.

He whines, a wretched noise, and sags against the vanity. They let him go, hands resting easy on his hips, their lips coming down upon his spine. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving, feeling flooding back into his extremities with a prickling sensation. Turning his head slightly, he looks in the mirror, catching them with their chin propped against the middle of his back, grinning. Elliott manages a breathless laugh and then presses his forehead to the counter, groaning.

“We’re disgusting and there’s no hot water.” He complains.

“Oh, dear.” Their right palm travels up, up along his spine before fisting in his hair. “You did not think I was done with you, did you?”

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I have plans for a fic where Mirage isn't the bottom, this one just got done before the other one,,, Also, some notes:  
-As I post fics to this series I might change their order around, i.e., their chronological order may differ from when they are posted.  
-I do keep Bloodhound mostly ambiguous, however, appearance wise I've been dropping tidbits of my own headcanon for them in the fics. Might get more descriptive later on (insofar as facial appearance) but I haven't decided.  
-Also, again, tried my very best to keep the sex gender neutral. Struggled a bit, but certain word choices ("sucking off", for example) are definitely not me stating they have a penis, just workin' with what I got! Hope it's all kosher. Any suggestions for improvement are always welcome in the comments.


End file.
